


Written on Skin

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hobbit Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: Everyone has another half of their being. Sometimes, destiny plays a part in the way two halves of a whole meet…based on this Hobbit Kink Meme Prompt: Basically, Middle Earth has soulmates: two people who are perfect for each other bound together romantically. They are a romantic ideal that everyone wants to have. This may be a rare thing or the norm, leaving that up to the writer. The way that you know someone is your soulmate is that if you write something on your arm (or elsewhere), until you wash it off, the other person can see it on their arm (or equivalent appendage).





	1. Chapter 1

~Third Age, 2904~

~Ered Luin~

He ignored the way his arm tingled.

Thorin didn’t want to guess. He didn’t want to suspect.

Still, it itched, demanding his attention.

At last, the meeting ended. He bade farewell to his advisors and sent the guards away – save for his cousins:

His first counselor, Balin.

Head of the guard, Dwalin.

His treasurer, Gloin.

And the royal physician, Oin.

“Is everything all right, Thorin?” Balin asked as Thorin stripped off his vambrace and rolled the sleeve up. They surrounded him, eyes wide with shock at the message etched into his skin.

_Just testing something. Please write back before sunset tomorrow._

It was written in a child’s hand. The letters were large and a little blocky, but legible and easy to read. An older child, then.

“Well, this is fortuitous!” Balin said as Oin examined Thorin’s arm. “Could be a while yet, it seems, but we can find out where your One is –”

“No,” Thorin said. “I need to think.”

“He’s got a point,” Gloin said. “For now, I’d find out our Queen’s race and age. Young, but not so young as they are not able to communicate, but perhaps still too young…am I making any sense?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Thorin said. He stroked his beard, trying to think.

He wanted to know more about his One.

“Gloin,” Dwalin said. “You said queen.”

“Aye,” Gloin nodded. “Most men are paired with a woman, though there is a chance our King’s One is not female. I didn’t mean to presume.”

Thorin let them be, still staring at his forearm.

It was a short message.

Unfeeling.

He could surmise that his One was trying not to hope for an answer, but decided to write anyway, even if they did not know if any answer would come.

Thorin wondered what he was going to do. He had so many questions he wanted to ask.

What was their name?

Were they Dwarrow?

How old were they?

Where did they hail?

Yet caution stayed him. Thorin had enemies still. If they were to know he had found his One, and if they learned his One’s identity…

“Is there more that needs my attention today?”

“There is not,” Balin said.

“Then I will depart for the day.”

He strode out of the hall toward his chambers.

Once alone, Thorin sat at his armchair by the hearth and traced his finger over the letters. He had not even thought that it was possible his One was not yet born. He thought he was one of the rare ones who lost their other half before they could meet.

The sun was beginning to set, and the words were beginning to fade. Being washed off.

If his One was still a child, then it would be better for him not to find them yet.

Not until they reached their majority.

He could wait.

He already waited for nearly one hundred and sixty years without even hoping that he had a One. Now he knew he did, and they still seemed to be a child. Young, but coherent.

Thorin stood and approached his desk. He had some charcoal that would be best. It wouldn’t scratch his arm or leave a scar, so he dipped it in water.

But what to say?

“Good evening?”

“Testing what?”

“I exist.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

He didn’t know.

Thorin exhaled and pressed the blunt tip to his forearm.

_I’ve also been wondering if I had a soul mate. We now can rest assured we do._

It wasn’t ideal. As unfeeling as the one left on his arm. Still, it was there now. It would have to do.

~Shire Reckoning, Year 1304~

~The Shire~

His parents were soul mates.

Even after their marriage, they’d write little notes on their arms to each other, leaving them with ridiculously dopey looks on their faces. Bilbo at first didn’t get it.

As he grew, he wondered.

He never had anything written on his arms or legs. Not even an inappropriate doodle on his forehead from some nutty cousin or other relation to give him a hint.

Granted, he was glad for that.

It spared him some sort of embarrassment.

“What do you use to write on your arms?” he asked his mother as they washed the dishes after elevensies.

Belladonna hummed. “Chalk is fine. Some use charcoal,” she said. “Why?”

“Just wondering. You and Dad always send each other notes on your arms.”

“We do,” she said. “Sometimes it helps when we’re having a disagreement of a sort. A little time away so to cool down, and then one of us will send a note letting the other know that we’re coming home soon and that we love each other still.” She set the dishes down. “Being soul mates doesn’t mean that everything is going to be lovely every day. Sometimes we fight and it’s natural and healthy for us to disagree here and there.”

“Do I have a soul mate?” Bilbo asked.

“Perhaps,” Belladonna answered. “How about you send them a note. You don’t have to tell them anything if you like. Just a simple ‘hello’ will do. I think if you do have a soul mate, sweetheart, they’ll respond sooner or later.”

Bilbo let her words sink in and he thought that…

_What if I don’t have a soul mate?_

It was possible.

Rare, but possible.

So, he decided to write something more…

Generic?

Unfeeling?

Well, it wouldn’t be just _hello_ , that much was certain!

After tea, he wrote a simple message:

_Just testing something. Please write back before sunset tomorrow._

Bungo arched a brow at the message when he saw what Bilbo had written.

“Bit cold, lad.”

“Well, what would you say to someone you don’t know? I don’t even know if they exist or if they’re alive.” Bungo’s other eyebrow joined the raised one, as though it never occurred to him that Bilbo wouldn’t have a soul mate.

“Let it stay on for a bit, then,” he said. “And wash it off before bed so you don’t dirty the sheets too much.”

Bilbo agreed to that and went back outside to play. His friends and cousins asked after the message but grew bored of it when he said _he_ wrote it.

That night, his arm itched just before he went to bed.

Bilbo pulled the sleeve back and stared wide eyed as a response etched into his skin in precise calligraphy:

_I’ve also been wondering if I had a soul mate. We now can rest assured we do._

“Mum!” He shouted, “Dad!”

Bilbo raced out of his room to his parents to show them the message on his arm. Belladonna caught him around the middle before he could tackle Bungo, excitedly showing the message on his arm.

“That’s wonderful, love,” Belladonna said. “Now, really, Bilbo, you must go to sleep.”

“I can’t go to sleep now!” he protested.

“You’re beloved also needs to rest,” she pointed out. “It’s late. You’ll have time to get to know them in the morning.”

Bilbo conceded, but he kept a candle lit, tracing the words written on his skin.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask, each one flitting through his mind.

Who were they?

Where did they live?

Were they a Hobbit, too?

Sometimes a person’s soul mate was of a different race. It was the case of Beren and Luthien, as well as many others.

Bilbo thought on that and hoped that they weren’t of the Big Folk. An elf would be all right, he supposed, but it’d be a bit awkward, no matter how you spun it.

When Bilbo at last fell asleep, he dreamed of meeting his beloved…


	2. Chapter 2

~Third Age 2941~

~Erebor~

Snow crunched under his feet. The ice was hard to get a grip over, but he placed his feet as carefully as he could along the frozen stone. He had sent Fili and Kili to scout ahead in Ravenhill’s ruins. He and Dwalin kept to the outside, searching.

Where were they?

Where had Azog hidden his forces?

His arm burned. Thorin tried to ignore it, but it continued to hurt.

“Thorin?”

“Watch my back,” he growled, undoing his vambrace and rolling the sleeve up.

_GET OFF RAVENHILL NOW_

It was bleeding.

“Bad time for a love note,” Dwalin said with a snort. Had he not seen the blood? Thorin looked down at the battlefield, horror filling his mind.

His One was here.

There was no other way he’d have known where Thorin was!

“Get Fili and Kili,” he ordered him.

“W—you’re bleeding!”

“Do as I say!” Thorin shouted, shoving him back. Dwalin nodded grimly and went to find the boys. Thorin’s arm throbbed. What had his One used to write the message? If he was bleeding…then so was his One…

Thorin put his vambrace back on, using it as a tourniquet.

“What’s going on?” Kili shouted as he and Fili rejoined him with Dwalin.

“We’re leaving. Head on down. Now.”

The boys stared at him, confused, but Dwalin ensured they obeyed. Thorin glanced around him, looking for any indication of the orcs and goblins seeking his death and the death of his family. In the end, he followed, mounting a battle ram and heading back down the mountain after Dwalin.

There were more important things to do.

“What happened?” Dain asked. “Is he dead?”

Thorin’s vision swam. He was still losing blood.

“Get the king to the healer!” Dwalin barked. He squeezed Thorin’s shoulder. “Get that looked at.”

“I can’t. They’re here.”

“Can’t be helped. I’ll handle this from here on.”

Thorin grit his teeth and let Dori pull him away from the battle. He let Oin undo his vambrace and he balked. The blood had dried, soaked into his tunic which now stuck to his arm. It stung as Oin pulled the cloth away. Both Oin and Dori hissed at the message carved into his skin.

“How son can it be bound?”

“Binding it is easy,” Oin said. “But you lost blood, Thorin.”

“I can’t stay –”

“Yes, you will,” Dori snapped, holding Thorin’s uninjured shoulder to keep him from moving. “Your One will be getting looked at somewhere, too, I’m sure of it. We will find them. But you’re not going to help them if you bleed to death.”

Thorin growled, massaging his forehead. Oin tied Thorin’s arm with linen. Thorin reached down and pulled free a line of graphite charcoal from his boot. He pulled his other arm free of its sleeve.

_Where are you? I’ll send someone for you. Don’t use what you used to get me off Ravenhill._

He gave it a few minutes, fighting the fog and the fear, before wiping his arm clean.

~Shire Reckoning 1304~

~The Shire~

“So, have you agreed to meet yet?” Belladonna asked around lunch.

Bilbo didn’t reply instantly, thinking of how to respond. He finished setting the table and helped bring the food over.

“No,” he said. “He’s all grown up, so he isn’t keen on meeting yet. I told him when I came of age, though.” Which wouldn’t be for another twenty years. Belladonna tucked his hair behind his ear.

“It isn’t that bad. Do you know if he’s a Hobbit?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don’t think he is. He told me he was a warrior, but he won’t tell me what his race is. He won’t even tell me his name. Nor will he let me tell him mine.”

“Why not?”

Bilbo picked at his food, frowning.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Belladonna hugged him. “He’s your soul mate, Bilbo, and you’re still a fauntling. For now, he probably just wants to protect you. And if he’s a warrior, then he’s likely seen things that he’d want to keep you away from. Probably even wants to keep you away from himself. I know it hurts that he isn’t giving you a lot of information about himself or letting you tell him about yourself, but I don’t think for a moment that he’s doing this to be mean or cruel.”

“But I’m not weak.”

“It hasn’t a thing to do about weakness or strength,” she said. “But more to do with that he loves you. He’s likely doing what he thinks is the right thing. For now, if he really is an adult, then it might be for the best that you don’t meet. Especially unsupervised. If he changes his mind, Dad and I will be glad to be there with you to meet him. We’d like to meet him anyway.”

She winked. “Now I don’t think your sweetheart is going to be any happier than I am if you don’t take care of yourself. Eat.” Bilbo shrugged, but managed a few bites anyway. She knew he’d bounce back sooner or later. He twitched a little and pulled his sleeve up to see the new message still drawing into his skin.

_I do want to meet you one day, but right now is not going to be ideal, Beloved._

Belladonna kissed the top of Bilbo’s head. “Finish eating. Then you can reply.”

~Third Age, 2904~

~Ered Luin~

Holding back from finding his One was perhaps the hardest trial Thorin ever had to deal with. Knowing that his One was still a child wasn’t something he was keen on. It’d be better to wait. Knowing they’d be of age in twenty years, well…

He already waited one hundred and fifty-seven years. Two decades would be nothing.

At least it wasn’t as long a time to wait as Kili had to. Lad found out more about his One than Thorin supposed would be acceptable. He still had time to get used to the idea of an Elven niece-in-law…

Kili wouldn’t be of age for an even longer time but had a good relationship with the She-Elf already.

Thorin had tried to reassure him – for he did find out that his One referred to themselves in the male pronouns – that they would meet someday.

Not before he was an adult, of course. In the moment they finally meet, he didn’t know what he’d do. Embrace his beloved. Kiss him, likely. Put a braid of intent in his hair, for sure.

He did hope that he didn’t do anything _too_ untoward. As a king, he had a certain image to maintain.

His arm began to itch again, as it did when he was getting a message from his One. He watched the message form.

**_I know it’s not ideal to meet right now, but I wish you’d tell me more about you. At least which race you’re of. Please?_ **

Thorin sighed and dipped his charcoal in a little water before replying.

_I’m a Dwarf, Beloved. The less I know about what you are, the better, but I am not against sharing things that make up our personalities. Likes and dislikes. Stuff like that._

Half a beat later, he had a response.

**_I like exploring. There’s a forest where I live and me and my friends play there all the time._ **

Thorin smiled gently at his forearm.

**_My mother is an adventurer of sorts. She stopped because it’s not safe to travel with a child and my Dad works a lot so he can’t stay home to take care of me if she were to go adventuring again, but when I reach my tween years, she promised to take me on an adventure West to the Grey Havens. Or East to Bree. That might’ve been more information than you want._ **

Thorin lifted his charcoal to answer.

_Not too much. At least we are somewhat close. I live in the Blue Mountains, but that’s as much as I’ll say for now, Beloved._

He should get back to work. There was more paperwork than he’d like to do. Sometimes he’d wonder if he ought to abdicate. Let Dis handle ruling their people. Go back to working in a forge where he felt useful, for a change.

**_Have you a favorite food? Mum makes a lot of different foods from around the world. She has several different cookbooks and my favorite is this chicken dish with mushroom sauce and noodles._ **

Food was a safe topic. Everyone liked food, after all. Tastes varied, of course, but still.

Thorin gave his response some thought.

_Red meats are my preference, but I’ve no set dish that I prefer. If I had to choose, I suppose I’d have to go with a beef stew with bread rolls to mop up the remains with. And washed down with a decent ale._

**_Sounds good. Is it spicy? Sometimes Mum and Dad argue over how spicy stew should be._ **

_Some people can handle spicy foods better than others. I do prefer my food to be a bit spicier than some, but that’s just how I am. I don’t think it should be too spicy, though. Otherwise, it’d feel like a miniature dragon decided to wreak havoc inside your mouth. Never liked that._

**_I ate a ghost pepper once. For a dare. It was awful! No amount of water would help cool my mouth down and I wept like mad because of it._ **

Thorin laughed lightly.

_I applaud you for your bravery. I don’t think I’d dare go near a ghost pepper if I could help it. Not even to answer a challenge as honor-testing as a dare._

~Shire Reckoning 1341~

~Erebor~

Bilbo wrapped linen around his arm tightly, the knife forgotten on the ground as he bound his arm. He glanced at Ravenhill and bit his lip.

_I know you got it. Please listen to me this time._

“Bilbo!”

He turned to Gandalf too quickly. His vision swam a bit and he threw his hand up to steady himself. “I’m all right.” Gandalf approached him and grabbed his injured arm.

“What have you done?”

“What needed to be.”

He’d have preferred _not_ to use a knife to carve his warning out on his arm, but Thorin wouldn’t have answered if he had used charcoal.

Gandalf pulled the bandages off and his eyes widened.

“You and Thorin…”

“It won’t matter now. He’s banished me. He never knew it was me, so…”

“Get to a healer,” Gandalf said. “And leave Thorin to me.”

“Gandalf –”

“Did he know it was you? All this time?”

“No. Probably not until after the battle.” Gandalf led him away from the battle. Once among Elves, Bilbo received a message from Thorin.

He wanted to know where he was. Bilbo didn’t know if he should tell him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Angst Ahead

~Third Age, 2908~

~Ered Luin~

“Move your feet!” Dwalin barked at Fili and Kili. “Kili, constant vigilance! You’re six is exposed!”

Thorin watched on the balcony as the lads sparred. Kili wasn’t going to be a great swordsman. He was best with range weapons. More than most Dwarves. Fili was receiving less bark from Dwalin. From Dwalin, that was as  good as a compliment some days.

Kili tripped and fell. Fili took the chance and went for the kill, straddling his brother’s chest and pressing his twin blades against Kili’s neck.

“Enough!” Dwalin barked. “Break!”

Fili stood and helped Kili off.

“You kicked my ass,” Kili groaned, elbowing Fili, who laughed merrily.

“Not my fault, _Nadadith_ ,” he said, locking his arm around Kili’s neck and dragging him off the training field. “You need to pay more attention. _Constant vigilance_ , you know.”

“Don’t quote Dwalin,” Kili complained, pulling free from Fili’s headlock. Thorin decided to let them know how he felt on their progress.

“It’s not like he’s wrong.”

“ _Irak’adad_ ,” Kili called. Fili grinned at Thorin as he bunted heads with Kili before repeating the gesture with Fili.

“Good work, lads,” he told them, watching them brighten under his praise. “Now if only you could direct that same concentration to your other studies.”

Fili laughed while Kili groaned. “It’s not as fun.”

“No, but just as important.” Thorin ruffled Kili’s hair. He shouted, batting at Thorin’s hand.

“Uncle, is there something you need us to do?” Fili asked.

 _Ever the pragmatist_ , Thorin thought, turning to his elder nephew. He got that from his father. It certainly wasn’t a Durin trait.

“I will require you both to attend council tomorrow. King Hennec will be visiting with Erivalda. Again.”

They winced.

Hennec had been trying to push Thorin into marrying his daughter, Erivalda. She was mostly bearable, compared to her father. She knew that Thorin had a One somewhere East of the mountains. Her father, though, thought it a ruse to get out of a “more prosperous alliance.”

“Your mother will be there, as well.”

“Then why us?” Kili whined. “Council meetings are boring.”

“Yet I need to reinstate that I have no need for a wife as I have adopted you both as my heir-sons. For whatever reason, Hennec seems to be of the mind that because your only Durin’s folk on your mother’s side then you are not true Durin’s folk.”

“Ergo, not actually eligible to be princes of Erebor,” Fili concluded. “Face it, Ki, we’re just going to have to be bored out of our minds tomorrow.”

“Well, at least Eri’s visiting,” Kili said, sighing.

“See, it’s not all bad. Mum and Eri will likely sneak out sometime afterward,” Fili said.

Hennec also refused to accept that Dis and Erivalda were One, writing each other since Durin’s Folk’s wandering days. It was part of what helped get them into the Blue Mountains.

Yet Hennec seemed to want to ignore that his daughter’s One was not a King, but another princess.

Thorin would gladly perform that wedding if Hennec ever got his head out of his ass…

One might wonder – what of the boys? Fili and Kili were indeed Dis’ children from her first marriage. Their father was a noble also displaced from Smaug’s attack. He was a good man and a great warrior. Dis got along with him and they were good friends.

But they weren’t One.

They had agreed to marry and have couple children to get their families off their backs. They also agreed to support each other if they found their Ones. They were good parents to the boys up to their father’s death. It was not the idealist love that Ones shared, but it was good, and they mourned his death.

Such was the case of many in the upper class. Many nobles and royals were expected to marry for politics. Not love. Love and romance were luxuries.

As far as Thorin was concerned, it was stupid.

His arm itched as he told the lads what he expected of them for the following day. He dismissed them and pulled his arm up.

**_I love you, Darling._ **

Thorin grinned. Sometimes his One had nothing really to talk about. Not knowing who they were – agreeing to wait till it was safer to do reveal any such information – left only so much to discuss.

So, often, he’d just get notes like this. Reminding him that he had a One waiting for him. Someone who was still a child but getting closer to their majority with each passing day.

He did know some things about his One after this long, though:

Thorin’s One had hazel blue eyes.

His hair was blondish-brown.

He imagined it as burnt gold or bronze.

He lived between the mountain and the village of Bree.

He was mischievous and adventurous. He tended to get hurt in his little adventures, though. The worst of which so far had been a broken arm when he fell from a tree a year ago.

Thorin had been irate and upset so much that he had written out a whole lecture on both arms about being careful.

His One told him he didn’t need another lecture as his father had already taken care of that part. Thorin replied that he should listen to his father more often.

He did remember to remind his One that he only lectured him because he loved him, and he had scared him when he heard about the accident.

_I love you, too, Beloved. How’s your day? Anything interesting to report?_

**_Does there have to be?_ **

_No. It’s rather boring over here, too._

**_Well, there is one thing: my dad has agreed to us going on a family trip West! It won’t be for a while yet. Not till springtime, but still!_ **

_Wonderful!_

**_Would you be all right with meeting then? With my parents there to chaperone?_ **

Oh.

Thorin wanted to say yes, but he didn’t trust himself.

He knew himself. He’d wrap his One up in his arms and kiss him. To not hold him when he would be so close would be painful in of itself.

He’d learn his One’s race.

He’d learn where he lived and…

Thorin sighed and responded with a heavy heart.

_I’m sorry, Beloved. No. I would love to meet you, but we can’t._

**_Then when? I don’t want to keep waiting._ **

_Not until you’ve come of age. Only fifteen years more, Beloved. I know it’s annoying. I do. Still, it would be best if we wait till then. For your safety._

**_From who? From what?_ **

There were so many ways to respond to that.

Thorin debated how best to answer that. He could say, “from me.”

Yet that would spark another argument between them. His One wouldn’t understand why he should fear Thorin. He trusted Thorin more than Thorin trusted himself. Even with the presence of his in-laws-to-be.

_I have enemies, Beloved. I would rather they not discover you at all._

**_You know that they might when we meet. Whether it’s now or in fifteen years._ **

_I do know that, but I would rather you not be put through whatever evil they may come up with if they discover you. I could lose you. I fear I could not bear it._

**_You’re not going to lose me. Not ever._ **

~Erebor, Shire-Reckoning 1341~

~Before the Battle of the Five Armies~

Bilbo sat alone in Thranduil’s tent. He tried not to cry, but his heart hurt too much. After all this time, how could Thorin still not have realized it was him?

 _Perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered if he knew or not_ , Bilbo thought, swallowing.

He pulled his legs to his chin, wondering what he was going to do. He had hoped giving the Arkenstone to Bard would shake Thorin out of his madness enough to be reasonable.

He had explained himself as best he could, and still, Thorin hadn’t listened. He could still feel Thorin’s hands, pinning him to the banister.

Well, there may be…

One last thing that could perhaps get to Thorin.

Bilbo picked up a quill and dipped it into the inkwell.

His arm itched, telling him he was getting a message. He pulled his sleeve up and read Thorin’s words.

_There are some complications right now, Beloved. But I will overcome them. When I do, I will come for you. I will gift you with gold and jewels. You’ll be adored as my greatest treasure._

It hurt. Even when he didn’t know it was him, Thorin had started to think of Bilbo as a possession. Something to hoard and hide.

Bilbo moved to his other arm and replied:

**_I love you, Darling. I’ll always love you. Goodbye._ **

He set the quill down and moved as far away from it as he could.

_What do you mean?_

Bilbo wiped his arm clean. He exhaled shakily and at last wept.

_Beloved, tell me what you mean?_

_Are you all right?_

_Talk to me, please._

_At least tell me you’re alive._

_Beloved?_

“Bilbo?”

He looked at Gandalf, wiping his eyes. “Yes? What is it, Gandalf?”

He ignored the concern in the wizard’s eyes. Surely, Gandalf would pry it out of him eventually, but for now, thankfully, he let it be. “We need to move. Dale will be overrun soon if we are not careful.”

“All right,” Bilbo said, standing. He pulled his sleeves over his arms, ignoring how they burned in his defiance to read Thorin’s messages.

_Please. Please tell me you’re all right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehe, i'm evil and i know it. I promise it'll get better. After much angst and grovelling. :) TT.TT


	4. Chapter 4

~Shire Reckoning 1323~

~Bree~

A trip to Bree with their closest friends was not how most Hobbits chose to celebrate their coming of age, but it was perfect for Bilbo. He, Adalgrim, Flambard, Sigismund, and Roper rented a couple rooms at the Prancing Pony. His friends cheered him on as he aimed to outdrink one of the rangers.

The Big Folk tended to think that because they were larger than a Hobbit, they could consume more alcohol than them and be all right. However, Hobbits had an impressive tolerance for a variety of alcohol. Particularly beers, ales, and wines.

Bilbo had been drinking since he was twenty-five, thank you very much.

He set down a fifth pint, grinning at his opponent, who was already wobbling. Bilbo would admit to being buzzed, but he wasn’t _that_ drunk. Yet.

His arm itched and he finished his sixth pint before even bothering to read it.

_I just want to protect you, Beloved._

Bilbo’s good mood dampened. That was what his soul-mate always said. It was one thing when he was still underage, but as of today, he was _not_ a child anymore.

Childish, perhaps. He knew he was being childish at the moment as he pulled his sleeve back down and grinned at the Man. “All right there, mate?” he asked. “Not going to puke?”

“Fuck you, Halfling,” the Man spat. Adalgrim, Flambard, and Sigismund laughed at that. Bilbo smirked at the Man.

“I’m afraid that’d be too uncomfortable,” Bilbo replied. “Unless you’re fine with being on bottom.”

“Yavanna’s tits, Bilbo!” Roper squeaked, wondering, perhaps, for the hundredth time how he was roped into this party with three Tooks and a Baggins-Took. Bilbo ignored him, enjoying making the Big Folk flustered and angry.

“Keep’em coming, lads!” Another ranger called. “Still got two upright fellows here!”

And so more alcohol came. Bilbo piled his mugs up in a pyramid. Four drinks later, the Man fell, passed out on the floor. The Hobbits cheered and gathered their payments from those who had bet on the Man. Bilbo slid a couple coins to the barmaid. “Drinks all around, Luv.”

“Another for yourself, as well, Sir?”

“A half-pint this time, I think. Should slow down.”

“Slow down?” Sigismund repeated, flabbergasted. “I’ve not heard something so ridiculous in ages! Slow down! Get ‘im another pint, Luv. Master Baggins here is now a fine Gentlehobbit if ever there was and should get right and proper drunk while he can!”

“I just downed eight pints!” Bilbo exclaimed. “How d2runk do you want me to get, Sig?”

“Enough to regret it in the morning,” Sigismund said. “Or do you want to be somewhat sober when your soul-mate gets here?”

Again, he lost his smile. “He isn’t coming.” Sigismund blinked.

“What? Why?”

Bilbo scoffed. “Apparently, he thinks it’s still too dangerous for us to meet.” The maid set down another pint in front of him. Once her back was turned, he took another sip, scowling. “It was one thing when I was underage. I can forgive that and get over that. I get it. But he knew when I’d come of age and even after all this time, he _still_ doesn’t want to meet. A part of me is starting to wonder what he’s afraid of.”

“I’m sorry, Bilbo,” Sigismund said. “Have you tried to find out what’s going on for him?”

“Constantly. He can’t use the ‘too young’ excuse anymore, after all. I look forward to finding out what else he’ll come up with next.”

“Could he be married?” Roper asked. “Only, some people do marry when they haven’t found their soul-mate, and then they find out they have one and…”

“Will you shut up!” Flambard snapped. “You’re not helping, Roper.”

Bilbo had not thought of that. It left him feeling sick. The copious amounts of alcohol in his system didn’t help, either. But if that was the case, why didn’t is soul-mate tell him?

Adalgrim flagged down the maid, shouting for a bucket. Bilbo guessed he looked like he’d be about to spew everywhere.

~Third Age 2923~

~Ered Luin~

Thorin suspected his One was angry with him. He couldn’t really blame him. He had promised to meet him when he came of age. When the message requesting him to meet in Bree came, he was ready to rework his schedule.

Then the assassin attacked, nearly slaughtering Kili while the lad slept. If not for Nori…

He wished he could explain himself better in a way that would help his One understand his reluctance. He wanted to meet him. He knew he didn’t have to wait any more, but since that night…

No. There were too many dangers. His enemies were willing to target his nephews and his sisters. Thorin wouldn’t have put it past Hennec to have sent the assassin. He was still wrathful over Dis’ and Eri’s elopement ten years ago.

He also didn’t want to worry his One…

Thorin’s arm itched madly. He had sent a message earlier, trying to explain, but he doubted it would be enough. He pulled his sleeve up and read the note.

**_Tell me the truth: are you married? Is that why you won’t come? If so, why would you keep that secret? Do I not deserve to know?_ **

Married?

Where did he get such a ludicrous idea?!

_I am not married, Beloved. I swear to you I would have told you if I was._

**_Then why? Give me a better reason than wanting to protect me!_ **

_I will always want to protect you, even if we were to meet._

**_Then you can’t keep using it as an excuse to put our meeting on hold._ **

Thorin sighed, massaging his forehead, wondering what to tell him.

He opted for the truth:

_Someone tried to kill my nephew the night you told me you’d be in Bree. He is all right. Both of my nephews are all right. Everyone’s alive and well. But with this new foe making himself known, I don’t want to give him another target. You are dear to me, Beloved. I don’t know when we’ll find him or when he’ll reveal himself again. For me, it’s too much to risk. I love you too much to risk it._

He set the charcoal down and leaned back in his chair, waiting for his One’s response.

**_I’m glad you’re all right and that you’re family’s all right. I suppose I can understand your newfound hesitancy. I don’t want to die. No one does. But you want to protect me. Why can’t you do that while knowing who I am? Or will you let me tell you my race? Will you agree to give me your name and accept my own in turn? We’re supposed to make each other stronger. Aren’t we?_ **

~Shire Reckoning 1341~

~Elven Camp on the Outskirts of Dale~

Bilbo debated how to handle Thorin’s request. Fine. Let them meet at last. It’d perhaps hurt Thorin more, which Bilbo didn’t want to do. He felt they hurt each other more than enough.

Still, he picked up a stick of charcoal and wrote which tent he was in.

After that, he was given food to eat and his wound cleaned and redressed in clean linen. As the healer finished wrapping his arm, he spied Gloin and Dwalin entering the tent. The healer snapped that they were disturbing the injured, but Bilbo waved him off.

“They’re here for me,” he said. “And are welcome.” The healer grumbled but let them through. They approached his bed. Once alone, he swallowed and unbound the dressing on his arm. Dwalin exhaled.

“You fool.”

“I had to do something to warn him.”

“You let him think you died,” Gloin accused. Dwalin helped Bilbo rebind the dressing.

“I thought I lost him to the dragon sickness. He banished me and tried to kill me. Call it a desperate attempt to bring him back to himself, if you like.”

“Did you ever tell him it was you?” Dwalin asked.

“No,” Bilbo said. “I did try, once I knew that Thorin was my soul-mate, both by writing him and by trying to tell him. He wouldn’t listen and he wouldn’t let me tell him. I thought he figured out who I was by the time we were at Beorn’s. Apparently not.”

Gloin and Dwalin glanced at each other. “Do you want to see him? He might want to now since you both nearly died today.”

Bilbo sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t fear for myself. I know he wasn’t himself when he…” he swallowed. “Even then…”

“You’re hurt,” Gloin said. “We get it, Lad. And yes, he is going to be angry at himself for laying a hand on you with malice. That’s unavoidable now that he’s himself again.”

Bilbo sniffed, staring at his hands. “I know. I just fear that if he knows that his soul-mate was me this whole time…he already blames himself for so much. I don’t want to add to that.”

“He’s going to be angry at himself for what he did to you whether he knows you’re his One or not,” Dwalin said. “That’s who he is. He’s going to need you, Bilbo, if he’s ever going to overcome what he did in his madness.”

Silence passed. Only disturbed by the sound of battle and the dying.

“I lost a lot of blood, so I don’t think it’d be best if I move much.”

“You don’t need to,” Dwalin said. “We can get a stretcher. That’ll do, will it not?”

Bilbo shook his head. “Others will need it more. It’d be a blow to my dignity, but if you really think that the sooner Thorin and I speak with each other the better, then you’ve my permission to carry me to him.” He threw the blanket off and let Dwalin lift him up.

~Third Age 2941~

~Erebor~

Thorin shivered, wrapped in a fur cloak as he waited for Dwalin and Gloin to return with news of his One’s condition. He gave Dain command, so that his word would be as good as his own.

His cousin might be third in line, but he was a better strategist and warrior. The boys could learn a thing or two from Dain. He trusted him to keep them alive as he recovered.

Nori and Ori pulled in another bed and quickly made it.

“What is going on?”

“Dwalin and Gloin have returned,” Nori said. “With your One. So, we’re getting him a place ready.” Thorin sighed. This was not how he wanted to meet his One, but after all the delays that came up. The assassins. The journeys. The skirmishes. Now was better than never.

They left and Thorin watched the door, waiting for it to open. Oin ran in, barking at Dwalin to set…

“Bilbo?”

“Stay down!” Oin shouted, forcing Thorin still as Bilbo was resituated in the fresh bed. Bilbo thanked Dwalin and Oin left Thorin to evaluate Bilbo’s own injury.

“You’ll be all right, lad. Just get some rest and fluids. In a few hours, your blood will replenish. Just don’t do something that reckless again.”

 Bilbo chuckled. “I don’t plan on it.” With that, Oin left and, finally, they were alone.

“How long have you known I was your One?” Thorin asked. Bilbo looked at him and averted his gaze.

“Since the thunder battle,” he said. “Well, after it. When we were hiding in that cave above Goblin Town. I was debating whether to return to Rivendell and then go home. I knew my One would have more experience in quests and adventures, so I wanted his advice on what to do…and he… _you_ told me something you’ve said before. In Bag End. Not the same way as then, of course…”

 _Honor, loyalty, a willing heart. I can ask no more than that,_ Thorin recalled. That was what he said in Bag End so many months ago. “I don’t…what did I tell you?”

Bilbo exhaled slowly. “ _I am sorry that your leader has been so hard on you. Still, you signed a contract with him willingly. By staying, no matter how hard it gets, you keep your honor. I know you are strong and loyal, Beloved. He will see it, given time. I hope you’ll continue your quest, even if just to prove to yourself that you are not as weak as your leader seems to think you are._ ”

Bilbo looked at him at last. “It wasn’t enough for me to be beyond doubt, but it made me wonder. I went out to relieve myself after that. When I came back, you were staring at your arm. I admit I shouldn’t have dared it, but I snuck behind you to see what it was. Imagine my surprise to notice my own handwriting on your skin. I would have said something then and there, but then the floor opened, and we fell. I thought you figured it out yourself. Couldn’t say when. But apparently, I was wrong about that. You still didn’t know. Until now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adalgrim Took (born 1280, 10 years Bilbo’s senior), Flambard Took (1287), Sigismund Took (1290), and Roper Gamgee (1285)


	5. Chapter 5

Thorin stood and approached Bilbo carefully. He sat on the edge of his bed.

“I did try to tell you.”

“And I kept telling you not to,” Thorin said. “Bilbo, I don’t know if it’d be any different between us now if I had known.” His throat felt thick. “I understand if you would rather not see me again after the battle.”

“Why would you think that?” Bilbo asked. “I know you were sick, Thorin.”

“It changes nothing. I tried to kill you. After all I had done in hopes of protecting you, I tried to kill you. If I had succeeded, I’d have never…”

He bent over, grinding his teeth as emotion overcame him. He dug his hands into his hair as he wept. He shook in rage and distress. Bilbo shifted beside him and pulled him into his embrace.

“You didn’t kill me. I’m okay, Darling. I’m alive. I’m here now. We’re together now, and we can get through this. I’m not leaving you, Thorin. I don’t want to.”

“You should hate me.”

“But I don’t hate you. I love you,” Bilbo reassured him, combing his fingers through Thorin’s hair. “Thorin, we _will_ overcome this. It’ll take time, but I know we’ll be all right. Won’t we? Or are you still intent on keeping your distance from me? Because I promise you, Thorin, I’m not going to let you keep pushing me away because you’re afraid to lose me.”

“You should fear me, even if you don’t hate me.”

“I’m not afraid of you, either. I can’t say I wasn’t scared, because I was, but it takes a lot to scare me away for good. You were sick, Darling, due to cursed treasure. You knew your family was susceptible to that curse but look at you now: you overcame it. You freed yourself from it. Thorin, your grandfather and father woud be proud of you.”

Proud?

Thorin doubted it.

Had they lived to see how he treated Bilbo, even if ignorantly…

They’d not be proud at all.

Still, he clutched Bilbo close, soaking his tunic with his tears. Bilbo kept stroking his hair, whispering assurances and promises that he’d every reason to break. Thorin wouldn’t blame Bilbo for wanting nothing to do with him now.

~Shire Reckoning 1326~

~The Shire~

Bilbo stood beside his mother, holding her up as Bungo’s body was lowered into the ground. It was hard, trying to remain strong even as he wept. Most would think about Belladonna’s health and worry she’d fade. It was a possibility, after all.

They’d not think Bilbo would be just as broken. He and Bungo had grown to have a little bit of a volatile relationship when he was a tween. Even if they did fight more and more over the last ten years, Bungo was still has father.

After the burial, they gave him and his mother their condolences, hugging her and Bilbo as they wished them well.

Once he had a moment alone, he pulled his sleeve up and wrote a message to his soul mate.

**_I need you right now._ **

His opposite arm itched as he received his response.

_What’s wrong, Beloved?_

Bilbo swallowed, tears streaking down his cheeks as he wrote about his father’s death last night, how he felt guilty, and that he was falling apart in trying to stay strong for his mother.

_I don’t think your father would want you to feel guilty. I know you and he didn’t always see eye to eye, but I know he did love you and your mother. Sometimes our time comes on us unexpectedly._

_At least you know. My own father went missing after a decisive battle for my people. I was told he was among the fallen, but I searched. I knew my brother had passed and my grandfather, both in that battle. I watched my grandfather be cut down and my brother as well. I found my brother-by-law’s body, too._

_My father’s corpse was not among them. I would rather know his fate rather than operate as though he had died when I’m not sure what happened._

_It’s painful not knowing what happened to your kin and I wouldn’t want that even for my foes. I know the pain of loss and I wish it were safe enough for me to come for you and be there for you and your mother during your hardship, Beloved._

_As it is, our neighbors here in the Blue Mountains are causing trouble still. My family is still at risk of assassination. I swear to you, as soon as the threat is eliminated, we will meet._

_I know these notes to each other are poor replacements for what you need right now, and I wish it were safe. Truly, I do._

**_But you’ve too many enemies. I know. I just don’t know how much longer you expect me to wait._ **

~Third Age, 2926~

~Ered Luin~

“Go to him,” Dis said, pulling the mug out of Thorin’s hand. “The lads, Eri, and I will be fine, Thorin.”

“They’re still children.”

“Yes, but they are also already warriors. You and Dwalin both ensured it. Fili and Kili can protect themselves now.”

“If I go, Dwalin will follow even if I order him to stay and protect you, Eri, and the boys.”

“You recall there are members of the royal guard just as good at their job as Dwalin is. You’ll need at least one of them to go with you to watch your back.”

“I don’t need that. You know that.”

“As does Dwalin,” Dis said. She set the mug down far from Thorin’s reach. “He is captain of the guard and your closest friend. Who else, other than yourself, would you trust to protect your One? Or am I mistaken, and you _don’t_ trust Dwalin.”

“Of course, I trust him,” Thorin snapped. “I…keeping my distance keeps my One safe.”

“You’re torturing him just as much as you are torturing yourself,” Dis said. “He’s been of age for three years. Hennec is going to continue causing trouble, but he is _my_ father-by-law. Eri and I can handle him.”

“The last time she had any contact with her father, you and she had already eloped, and she went to tell him. He disowned her. I don’t trust Hennec.”

“Neither do I,” Dis said. “I’m sure he’ll find a way to take advantage of your absence. Try to kill me, the lads, even Eri. I wouldn’t put it past that rat. Still, Thorin, you need your One with you and he needs you. Or are you drinking alone and hiding in your room for another reason?”

~Third Age 2940~

~The Shire~

The Halfling, if anything, looked frazzled.

Thorin eyed him, trying to gauge the likes of him. Hobbits, he found, weren’t the bravest of the four Free Peoples. If they could be counted among them at all.

“So, this is the Hobbit,” he said, circling around him. “Tell me, Master Baggins. Do you fight much?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Axe or sword, what’s your weapon of choice?”

“Uh…well, I’ve some skill with conkers, if you must know. Though, I fail to see how that’s relevant.”

Thorin scoffed. “Thought as much,” he said. “Seems more like a grocer than a burglar.”

He smirked at the Halfling and headed into the kitchen, quite aware of Baggins’ dark glare burning into his back.

As he had a light dinner of some soup – _all of them are assholes for eating without me,_ Thorin thought – they discussed whether more would come on their journey.

Thorin told them that none would join, not even Dain or Eri.

Eri had been furious when Kili announced he’d join the quest. With Fili already set to inherit the name as King of Durin’s Folk, the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains would be left in Kili’s hands. Still, Kili was not of the Blue Mountains. He was Durin’s Folk by blood and bone.

Thorin expected it, though.

She and Dis weren’t happy that the lads were going with him. Thorin had tried to mediate between the lads and their mothers, but he hadn’t been as much help as he had hoped to be. In the end, Fili and Kili were of age now. Erivalda and Dis might worry, but they didn’t have control over what they did or did not do anymore.

So that left Thorin with two irate Dwarrowdams threatening to hack his, Balin’s, and Dwalin’s Dwarf-hoods off should anything happen to Fili and Kili.

A cringe-worthy threat. He didn’t doubt they’d follow through with it if the lads had worse than the usual scrapes.

Thorin pulled himself out of the thoughts of bodily harm by the hands of his sisters just as Gandalf laid down the map and key before him.

After that came the discussion whether or not the Halfling actually qualified for what they needed, silenced only when Gandalf shouted at them.

“You must trust me,” he implored Thorin.

“Fine,” Thorin said. “Give him the contract.” Balin handed it to the Hobbit and Thorin leaned in toward Gandalf. “I cannot guarantee his safety,” he whispered. “Nor will I be responsible for his fate.”

The wizard accepted this, albeit reluctantly.

After another hour as Baggins weighed his options, he decided not to sign it and went to bed.

Thorin wasn’t surprised.

“Who thinks he’ll change his mind?” Gloin boomed. They placed bets to whether he’d change his mind at all and, if he did, how long it’d be for him to catch up.

Thorin’s arm tingled as his One sent him another message.

**_I was just invited to go on an adventure. A part of me wants to go, but I don’t know if it’d be best._ **

Thorin scratched his beard thoughtfully.

_Do you know what they want you to do on this adventure?_

**_Yes._ **

_I’m about to embark on a quest myself. To reclaim my old home. It’d be dangerous, Beloved. But I fear, at the rate it’s been going that we’ll never have a chance to meet._

**_I fear it as well, Darling._ **

Thorin sighed.

_I think you should go on this adventure you’ve been asked to join. I know I’ve been holding you back, Beloved, because of my own fears. Still, you’re an adult now and I could die on this quest._

**_So, what are you saying?_ **

_I’m saying you should do whatever you think is right for you. I’m going on a quest, too, and you can still write me if you need to. You deserve to live your life even if it’s not with me. I don’t want to hold you back anymore, Beloved. If you want to go on this adventure, then go. See the world while you can._

**_I’ll think on it. No promises._ **

#

The Hobbit shouted at them, chasing them down. He handed Balin the contract and saddled a pony. He looked nervous and excited, like a youth on their first quest or assignment.

It didn’t fill Thorin with any more confidence in their so-called “burglar.”


	6. Chapter 6

~Shire Reckoning 1341~

~Erebor~

Thorin slept as peacefully as one could sleep when they were upset. Bilbo kept petting his hair, using his fingers as a comb.

“Erm, Bilbo?”

He glanced at Kili and smiled gently. “How’s the battle?”

“We’ve won. Dain beheaded Azog and Legolas slayed Bolg,” Kili said. He came closer. “Erm…what about you and Thorin?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Bilbo said. “We’ve a lot to work through, as you may guess…I just hope he won’t keep pushing me away.”

“You know, Bilbo,” Kili sat on Thorin’s bed. “He loves you dearly. When you started writing to him, he was…happier. I know that feeling. Knowing you have a One, well, nothing short of meeting them for the first time is as exhilarating.”

“I’m afraid Thorin and I won’t have as good a relationship as you will with Tauriel,” Bilbo said. “There’s a lot of…”

Anger?

Distrust?

Betrayal?

“There’s a lot of pain between me and him right now. I’m not going to leave, even if he thinks I’m well within my right to. Perhaps I am, but ultimately, it is my own choice to make whether to stay in Erebor or go back to the Shire. I’ve been waiting for him too long to easily be scared off. I know he wasn’t himself when he threatened me. Granted, I know that’s just a bandage right now. Eventually he and I will have to talk about it. I just…I hope we’ll find a way to overcome today.”

“You will,” Kili said. “It’s not like it’s the first fight you’ve ever had with him. Maybe the first you’ll have face-to-face. I’m honestly not looking forward to having any fights with Tauriel, though I know it’s unavoidable. My mother and step-mother always fight, but they’re…”

“Deeply in love and in the end, those fights don’t seem to matter? I know. My parents were also soul mates. I didn’t know you had a step-mother.”

Kili nodded, grinning. “Queen Erivalda of the Blue Mountains, Daughter of Hennec…who was the main reason Thorin couldn’t meet you sooner. Hennec tried to have me and Fili killed several times, after Eri and Mum eloped with Thorin’s help. Thorin didn’t want to leave us or Mum or Eri alone in case Hennec managed to succeed.”

“Ten years ago,” Bilbo thought. “Thorin told me there was a bit of a…civil war in the mountain around that time.”

Kili nodded. “Eri was injured when an assassin tried to kill Mum. After she healed, she petitioned Thorin to help her usurp Hennec and put her on that throne. We were all getting tired of it, so Thorin agreed and it launched. The Dwarves of Erebor and a few of the Blue Mountains who sided with Eri fought against those loyal to Hennec. It was eight years of battle within that pass.”

“Where is he now?”

Kili shrugged. “Eri shaved him. We don’t execute our criminals. A Dwarf’s pride is in his beard so shaving it off is how we show that they are dishonorable. It’s not death, but it’s banishment. A Dwarf with a shaved face will never be allowed into any of our settlements or kingdoms. If Hennec is still alive, we don’t know where he is.”

“That’s a harsh thing to do to your own father.”

“Hennec wasn’t a good Dwarf, what made you think he was a good father or a good king? I just came of age two years ago. I was still a child and he sent assassins after me and Fili. He even tried to kill Fili when he came of age. No, we don’t like Hennec and we’re all glad he’s not around anymore.”

“I can’t blame you,” Bilbo said. “Knowing what he did to you and Fili, to your mother, and even to Thorin and to me by extension…you can’t help but hate him, can you?”

“And even that is generous,” Kili agreed.

~Shire Reckoning 1329~

~Michel Delving~

Bilbo couldn’t fathom why his uncle Isengrim wanted him to attend the meeting with him. He didn’t bear the Took name and there were plenty of other relatives that would be better suited. Still, when the Thain called on you, you didn’t dare refuse.

Especially when he was your uncle.

He sat close by with his cousin Rory Brandybuck as the Thain, the Master of Buckland (his aunt’s husband, Gorbodoc Brandybuck), and the Mayor discussed the upcoming winter and how to ration the harvest.

“Any idea why the Thain wanted you to come with him?” Rory whispered.

“Not a clue,” Bilbo said. “I’m not next in line for the title of Thain.” That would be his other uncle Isumbras Took, the second eldest of the Old Took’s numerous sons.

“Maybe he wanted him to stay behind and watch over things at Tuckborough,” Rory whispered. “Lucky. I didn’t want to come. I had wanted to meet up with Annie Bolger.”

Bilbo chuckled lightly at that.

“Bilbo, Rory, come here, lads,” Isengrim said. They approached the three elder Hobbits. “Rorimac, you’ve not had any soul marks appear.”

“No, Sir,” Rory said.

“I still don’t think this is the best option, Isengrim,” Gorbodoc sighed. “The lads should be allowed to follow their hearts.”

“Rorimac is the eldest of the Brandybuck line,” he said. “And has not found his soul mate yet.”

“Not everyone has them.”

Bilbo’s heart felt heavy and frozen.

“You want to arrange a marriage for us?” he asked. Isengrim sighed, massaging his forehead. “No. I won’t do it. I _have_ a soul mate.”

“Who has refused to come and meet you,” Isengrim stated. “Who has refused to know your name and your race. You are first born of the Baggins clan. More so, you are the only heir of the Baggins clan. Unless you want the Sackville-Bagginses to take over your family, you need to marry and have an heir.”

“Fuck that!” Bilbo shouted. “You hypocrite! You’re not married yourself! You don’t have any heirs! How dare you decide I must!”

“Unlike you, I don’t have an issue with the line of succession. I know I can trust my brother to take care of the Took clan if something happens to me. You, on the other hand, know for a _fact_ you _cannot_ trust Otho Sackville-Baggins. That boy is a fool. I promise you’ll be matched with a maid who will not interfere when your Soul Mate finally gathers his wits and decides to stop playing games with you.”

Bilbo shook with rage, wanting nothing more than to punch Isengrim in the nose.

“Then I’ll chose someone else to succeed me. I don’t want to marry, and I don’t want a child. Especially in this situation. You know I’d never be able to love whoever you decide to force me to marry let alone the child we have. And that’s _if_ I can even get it up long enough to get the poor girl pregnant.”

“I am only doing what I believe is for the best. You will get married. And you will have a child with whoever is chosen to be your wife.”

“You know what, Uncle? Fuck you. I won’t go through with it.”

“Control your temper, Bilbo Baggins,” Isengrim snarled. “I will order you to marry as your Thain, if I must. Your mother should have taken care of this before she died.”

“Well, thank the Goddess she didn’t,” Bilbo growled back. “At least she knew I wouldn’t betray my soul mate.”

“You’re _not_ betraying anyone, Bilbo. Least of all, your soul mate. You’ve been of age for nearly seven years. He still has not come to meet you. You don’t even know his name, Bilbo. Be reasonable. If he truly wanted you, he would have come for you long ago.”

“It’s not that simple for him,” Bilbo said.

Isengrim leaned back in his chair, staring at him. “What is his name, Bilbo? I will drop the matter and arrange a marriage for you if you can tell me his name.”

Bilbo’s shoulders dropped. “Right now?”

“Has he told you once his name?”

Bilbo sighed. “No. I know he’s a Dwarf. I know he’s a warrior. I know he has a sister and two young nephews. I know he lives in the Blue Mountains. But that’s all I know about him.”

Isengrim hummed. “Amaranth Brandybuck will make a fine wife, Bilbo.”

“What?!” Bilbo shouted.

“Father, that’s madness!” Rory shouted. “They’re too close in blood!”

“Hundreds of Hobbits marry cousins,” Gorbodoc said.

“Not a generation apart!” Bilbo shouted.

“Not commonly, no. But it does happen. Mira and I have already discussed it and agreed it’s not the worst option available. Rory, we’ve already decided that Menegilda Goold would be a good fit for you.”

“Oh,” Rory said. “Okay, I can live with that.”

“Easy for you to say!” Bilbo shouted. “I’m not going through with this.”

“Master Baggins, _please_ ,” the Mayor implored. “Your uncles are not trying to be malicious.”

Bilbo felt his arm tingle.

“If you need me, I’ll be outside,” he decided.

Once alone, he found a secluded spot under a tree and pulled his sleeve up.

_My sister’s One has just asked me to help lead a coup. Given the situation we’ve been in lately, I agreed. I am sorry, Beloved. It’ll be just a little longer._

“Of course, it is,” Bilbo snarled. It’s always _a little longer_. Bilbo ruffled his hair and replied.

**_My uncle has decided that I’ve waited long enough. He’s arranging me to marry another. I don’t want to go through with it. Please, Darling. It can’t be any longer._ **

**_Please tell me your name. Let me tell you about me. The longer this goes on, the less convinced everyone is that you love me as much as I love you._ **

He set his charcoal down and tried not to let his despair overwhelm him.

~Third Age, 2929~

~Ered Luin~

He supposed it was only to be expected. Thorin traced the script with his finger. What could he say? He really did want to keep his One safe.

Perhaps it was for the best if he let it play out. Whatever it took to keep his One safe. Even if it broke his heart to know another would be there for him in his place.

_Beloved, I understand. I do. You must have to do what is right by your people._

**_I don’t want anyone else. I only ever want to be with you. I don’t care how dangerous things are about to become. I’m going to the mountain. Trust me, I’ll be easy to find among Dwarves._ **

_You can’t. It’s about to get very dangerous here._

**_How exactly do you intend to stop me? You don’t know what I look like. You don’t know my race. You don’t even know my name. I am done waiting for it to be safe enough for you to risk it! So, I will take the risk myself. I’m done waiting._ **

Thorin massaged his forehead, trying to think of a way to calm his irate One. He couldn’t let him risk coming to the mountains.

_What do you think I would do if something were to befall you? So long as you are alive, it’s enough for me. It won’t be bad, getting married. They might make you happier than I’ve been able to._

**_I DON’T WANT HER!_ **

_I know you don’t. I don’t like this any more than you do, Beloved. Still, it’d be safer. You’ll have a long life with her. Children, even. I’m sure they’d be beautiful. I’m sure you’ll come to love her anyway._

**_How can you think I’d ever be able to love her? I hate you. I hate you so much right now. I’m not a child anymore, you ass._ **

Thorin sighed deeply.

_I’m sorry you feel that way, Beloved. I love you too much to put you in danger. And the world I live in is too dangerous. If giving you up ensures you’ll be safe, then I will give you up._

He didn’t receive another reply.


	7. Chapter 7

~Third Age, 2941~

~Erebor~

~Two Months After the Battle of the Five Armies~

Thorin kept having nightmares.

He normally could handle his nightmares.

Except in his dreams, he was holding Bilbo over the ledge again, threatening to drop him. Let him fall to his death. And watch as his blood seeped out onto the ground.

He always woke just before Bilbo hit the ground, despair clawing at him until he remembered Bilbo was safe and alive. He groaned, feeling his stomach roil and flip, threatening to upset him again.

“Your majesty?” one of Dain’s guards said, stepping into the room. “Lord Balin awaits. Shall I let him in?”

“Yes,” Thorin said. The guard let Balin enter. “Time to get up, I take it.”

“Well, yes, but there’s not too much to do today. Bilbo is handling negotiations with the Elves and Men later and you need only be there for appearance’s sake.”

“Good,” Thorin said, throwing the covers off. “What else?”

“The guild hall finished rebuilding. The masters expect you to be there to assess whether they’re safe enough to inhabit. Dain will do the same. Regarding the kitchens, food is scarce.”

As Balin spoke, Thorin dressed behind a curtain. He stepped out while tying his tunic. “I’m sure Bilbo will manage to make a deal with the Men and the Elves that will fix that.” He selected a jerkin and laced his arms through the sleeves.

“Winter is set in, Thorin. Most animals have gone into hiding from the cold. All we have in abundance is fish,” Balin reminded him. “And even then, no one knows how good the fish is what with Smaug’s corpse in the lake.”

Thorin nodded. “I understand that, Balin, but what else can we do? Even wizards cannot make food appear out of thin air. We must do what we can until its safe to sow food again. For that, I trust Bilbo’s judgement.”

“Even if it means help from Thranduil.”

“As long as I’m not the one dealing with him, I’ll learn to live with it,” he assured him. Thorin grabbed his socks and a pair of boots. “Is it possible to make time for me to speak with Bilbo?”

“I think so,” Balin said. “Perhaps at the end of the day, so not to distract yourselves from the day’s duties. Dinner, then.”

Thorin laced up his boots. “I’d rather meet with him sooner than tonight,” he decided. “Could we meet for lunch instead?” He stood and went to tame his hair.

Balin hummed. “I’ll see what can be done.”

Thorin thanked him and sent him out, promising to be at court soon. He glanced at himself in the mirror and sighed. _What am I going to do?_

Even now, he still didn’t know. He had to do _something_ , especially regarding Bilbo. Thorin squared his shoulders and left his chambers, heading to have a quick meal before facing everything he would need to do and oversee.

~Shire Reckoning, 1329~

~Buckland~

Bilbo was…

Well, he was feeling a lot of things.

Amaranth looked just as miserable as he felt, crying silently as they trudged ahead of their chaperone. At least he knew she didn’t like this any more than he did.

Bilbo liked Amaranth, but she was his cousin. Their relationship had always been akin to siblings. She, it seemed, felt the same. She wiped her eyes on occasion, as though it would help stop the flood trailing down her cheeks.

“I am sorry, Amy,” Bilbo said, sighing. “I don’t think it’s fair either.”

“I know,” she whispered. She swallowed. “I think Father and Uncle Isengrim think they’re helping us.” Bilbo scoffed. “It’s just…my Soul Mate stopped writing me. I don’t know why. I don’t even know if he’s alive anymore. Father thinks he did die, because why else would he stop…”

Bilbo stared at her. “I didn’t know you had a soul mate,” he said. Amaranth nodded.

“He’s a Hobbit of Bree,” she said. “Toby Goldthumb…it’s been about six months since I last heard from him. I did write him, you know, but I never got a response.”

“And no one thought to go to Bree and find out what happened to him?” Bilbo asked.

“I wanted to,” she said. “But my parents…and my brothers…They think Toby’s beneath me since he’s not a…” she scoffed. “A _respectable Hobbit of the Shire_.”

Bilbo fumed, thinking on his own Soul Mate. No one would dare say such a thing to his face. Bilbo had the infamous Took temper, after all, and would defend his Darling till his dying breath.

“I’ll take you to Bree and we can find out what happened to him,” Bilbo decided.

“And if he has died?” Amaranth asked, her lower lip trembling. “What then?”

He didn’t know. Amaranth knew he didn’t know. “We’ll figure something out if that’s the case,” he said at last.

“They’ll make us marry.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But let’s be honest.” Bilbo sent her a gentle smile. “We’re not ever going to be attracted to each other, anyway, but if that is what happens, you’ll be safe in Bag End, Amy. But that’s only if your lad has died. Fair enough?”

Amy nodded, wiping her tears away. She seemed calmer now. “When should we leave?”

“Tomorrow night,” Bilbo said. “After everyone’s gone to sleep. We’ll have to be stealthy about it, or else it’ll get back to the Thain. I’d rather _not_ find out what Isengrim will do.”

“You know, Bilbo,” Amaranth sighed. “If Toby’s alive, I won’t return to the Shire.”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you sure you should, too? They might just try to set you up with someone else.”

“And yet I’ve no other option,” he sighed. “My Soul Mate lives in the opposite direction of yours. If I’m to get to the Blue Mountains, I’ll have to cut through the Shire. It’s the quickest way. For now, though, let’s just go to Bree and see what happened to him. Fair enough?”

Amaranth glanced behind them at their chaperone, then she turned back to Bilbo and nodded. “Meet me tomorrow night at midnight at the Brandywine bridge.”

“I’ll be there.”

~Third Age, 2941~

~Erebor~

Thorin was good at listening and watching. He sometimes thought he was a master of observation.

 _How could I not have known?_ He thought as Bilbo negotiated with Thranduil and Bard. Food, shelter, work. All of which were in abundance what with Erebor needing to be rebuilt.

“For the winter months only,” Bilbo said to Bard. “When the spring comes, we’ll start rebuilding Dale. For now, though. All hands would be ideal in making the mountain inhabitable again.”

“In exchange for rebuilding the Mountain city, your king will let us stay here?” Bard asked. Bilbo glanced at Thorin, who nodded once.

“Yes. And when the weather is more favorable, we will also aid in rebuilding Dale.”

“And the materials?” Thranduil asked. “The food? You expect me to trade all that for nothing?”

“No,” Bilbo said. “There’s plenty of gold and you get the white gems of Eren Lasgalen as good faith. You understand we cannot hand over the whole amount. Just portions, for now.”

“Was the treasure not divided into thirteen shares, though?”

“And there is so much of it, that I do not mind fronting the costs alone if I must,” Bilbo promised.

“He won’t,” Balin said. “The company of Thorin Oakenshield has discussed it at lengths over the last month. We’ve agreed that even one hundredth of the treasure is more than enough for all of us to get on our feet and live our lives comfortably.”

“That’s eighty-seven more shares,” Bilbo said. “There will be plenty of wealth to feed all of us, clothe all of us, and pay for the materials we need. When the weather turns, we will also begin restoring the earth around the mountain. I have sent word to my people and the Thain, our leader, has agreed to send over some mulch and seeds for grass and crops. Perhaps even trees and bushes. All of that is needed for Esgaroth and Erebor to restore its natural glory.”

“You think the Dwarves will work the earth,” Thranduil scoffed.

“Doubtful,” Bilbo admitted. “But I know Elves and Men and Hobbits do. They don’t need to. My people are people of the earth. We know deep in our bones how to restore bad and dead land. The Dwarves excel in work regarding stone and metal. The Men are great hunters and fishers. We can work together, and we _must_. There’s no other option before us. Like it or not, we are all equal in this. We need to survive. And we can. My lord Thranduil, this is not the time to for pettiness and disdain. I know you were wronged by the Dwarves of Erebor in the past. Can you say you have not wronged them in turn?”

Thranduil arched a brow at Bilbo. “Your other half, Thorin Oakenshield, is a wise one. The Valar blessed you indeed.”

Thorin didn’t know how to respond. Part of him thought it _could_ be a genuine compliment, but he didn’t trust himself to speak or to even trust Thranduil enough to view it that way. So, he remained silent and let Bilbo continue.

_How could I not see it when we met?_

He likely would never know.

“The Dwarves and the Men have my leave to hunt in the forest. I will provide crop, building materials, and clothes for five portions of the gold. Not including the gems.”

Balin and Bilbo glanced at Thorin, who sighed and nodded. It could be much worse, he supposed.

The arrangements and negotiations went on for another hour before they were ready to call it good and break for lunch.

Bilbo approached Thorin. “Are you sure you’re all right with all this?”

“I’m as good as I can hope to be,” Thorin assured him. He couldn’t look at him. It’d just break his heart again. _How could I dare try to hurt him? I should have known it was him…_

Bilbo pinched Thorin’s ear and tugged. “Stop that. Beating yourself up over what has happened isn’t going to make it any better. Balin said you wanted to speak with me, so let’s go eat and we can talk.”

Thorin followed Bilbo to his own quarters. Once there, Bilbo set a table full of warm food. Fresh bread and roast ham. Some steamed vegetables, too. And two mugs of spiced cider. Thorin had tasted Bilbo’s cooking on the journey. He had often helped Bombur on the campfire when they had the food and tools for it. But to eat food _solely_ made by him.

It was glorious. Everything was flavorful and decadent. Even the vegetables, which he usually avoided as much as any other Dwarf.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Bilbo asked.

 _Good question_.

Thorin set down his fork and folded his hands. “Everything. Nothing. I just…how can you still want me after what I did to you? What I’ve done?”

Bilbo blinked. “You know, I’m just as guilty. For a short time, I let you think I had died. So long as you were mad, I wouldn’t want to stay, but I didn’t want you to die either. And before then, I stole from you. At the same time, you didn’t know it was me.”

“I should have known. I loved you for decades. I knew everything about you except your name and your race.”

“Then how exactly would you have known it was me?” Bilbo asked. “I didn’t know who you were when you entered my house.”

“But I felt it, Bilbo. Over the weeks, I felt it. I knew it was you and I still…you aren’t obligated to stay.”

“Thorin, enough. I’ve waited for you since I was child,” Bilbo took Thorin’s hand in his. “I defied my uncle when he tried to marry me to my cousin. I know about Hennec, now, and I am glad he is gone after everything he did to you and the lads. I know you would never hurt me in your right mind. I’ve never been afraid of you. Never.”

He squeezed Thorin’s hand. “I’ve forgiven you. And I’m not going anywhere, Darling. At this point, Thorin, you need to forgive yourself. You’ve always been too hard on yourself. You’re mortal. You did what you could with the power you have.”

“Do you think that excuses what I did to you? I tried to kill you. What do you think I’d have done if I succeeded and found out too late that I killed you?” Thorin exhaled shakily. “You should hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Darling,” Bilbo assured him. “Yes, I could be angry at you and there are days I am very angry and upset about what happened between us. But I also believe that we’ll overcome it. I need you to believe the same, Thorin. I need you to trust me and I need you to trust yourself. Otherwise this is going to fall apart more than it already has. Can you at least try?”


	8. Chapter 8

~Shire Reckoning, 1329~

~Bree~

Amaranth kept close to Bilbo as they made their way to the Prancing Pony. Perhaps a bit too close, but Bilbo let it be. It was her first time out of the Shire, after all. She was bound to be a bit nervous.

They entered the inn and acquired a room. Bilbo specifically asked for one with two beds. He wouldn’t mind sleeping in a chair or the floor, but he’d rather not.

After settling in, they went to eat. A maid brought them a meal of roast chicken and bread rolls and some wine to wash it down.

After they ate, Bilbo stood. “Toby Goldthumb, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right back,” he assured her. Bilbo went to the bar and climbed up on a stool. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, waving down the barkeep. “My cousin and I are looking for a Hobbit named Goldthumb. Toby Goldthumb. We’re friends and we’ve not heard from him in some time.”

“And who is asking?” A woman asked.

Bilbo turned in his stool to meet her gaze.

The woman was a Hobbit. Her auburn hair was pulled into a braid down her back and she wore plain attire, a tray under her arm. She stared at Bilbo with appraising green eyes.

“I’m asking on behalf of Amaranth Brandybuck,” he said, getting down. “And you are?”

“Ariel Goldthumb, Sir,” she said. “Toby’s my brother.” Bilbo motioned for her to follow him.

“Amy,” he called, quickly introducing them. Ariel embraced Amaranth tightly. She sat down beside Bilbo.

“We thought you wanted nothing to do with him after the accident,” Ariel said.

“I didn’t hear anything about an accident,” Amaranth replied.

Ariel hummed. “I wrote for him, explaining it…that must be what happened. Because it wasn’t Toby writing the message, you didn’t get it.”

“But I wrote on my own arm.” Amaranth gripped her left arm. “For days.”

“On the left arm? He lost it in an Orc raid six months ago. They completely hewn it off. He’s alive, but it was touch and go for a while.”

“Which means he never got my messages,” Amaranth sighed. “Can I see him? Please?”

“Of course!” Ariel said. “Not tonight, I’ll need to warn him, but come to breakfast tomorrow. We’ll sort the whole thing out.”

“It never occurred to him to write on his leg?” Bilbo asked. “That would have cleared everything up, wouldn’t it?”

“He was left handed,” Ariel said. “And is still having trouble making do with his right. And as I said, we though Amaranth wanted nothing to do with him now that he was crippled, and, well, she’s a Brandybuck. The wealth of that clan…Toby wouldn’t openly admit it to her, but he sometimes felt rather inferior and unqualified for her.”

“That’s for me to decide!” Amaranth declared. “How about breakfast tomorrow. Would that be all right?” Ariel nodded.

“Tomorrow morning. Which breakfast?”

“Second,” Bilbo said before Amaranth could speak. She’d likely choose first, but not everyone was awake for first breakfast and Bree was a mix of cultures. Best to let everyone get up and about before they met with the Goldthumbs.

Amaranth glared at him for a moment before ceding with a nod.

“Second breakfast it is,” Ariel agreed. “I’ll let him know. I fear Toby won’t be too happy at first, but he’ll get over it. Just…try to be patient with him. He’s not been…in the best state since he lost his arm.”

~Shire Reckoning 1341~

~Erebor~

Each day brought new progress. The Dwarves and Men worked well together. There was simply too much to do rather than find something to bicker about. Bilbo was quite grateful for that, to be frank. He didn’t know what he’d do if he was forced to handle dispute after dispute.

Bilbo made sure that he and Thorin at least had their evenings together for dinner. To talk, mostly. Try to overcome their issues. At least, Thorin wasn’t trying to push him away anymore. He was still melancholy, though, and not sleeping well.

“They wouldn’t be proud of me,” Thorin said as they sat in front of the fire. “My father and grandfather wouldn’t be proud of me.”

Bilbo marked his spot in the book and turned to him. He wanted to dispute that, but he didn’t know Thrain nor Thror well enough to adequately argue that they would be. “Why do you think they’d not be?” He asked instead.

Thorin glanced at him, then turned back to the fire. “Do you think that, even in their own madness, they’d have threatened my mother or grandmother?”

Ah.

“I don’t think we’ll ever know,” Bilbo said. “Would your grandmother or mother have stolen any of the treasure as I did?”

Thorin sighed. “I can’t say. My grandmother passed away before my grandfather fell. And my mother died when Smaug came.”

“We’ll never know, then. And your father and grandfather aren’t here to clear up this mess. But…well, what about all your accomplishments? You led your people safely to the Blue Mountains. You kept your family alive and well when they were under threat of assassination from your sister-by-law’s father. You even aided her in a civil war that put her on her throne so that your family and your people would survive for many years more. Then after all that, you still decided to take back the mountain that was taken from you despite all odds against you. Madness or not, all that is something to be proud of, Darling.” Bilbo watched him, hoping what he said got through to Thorin, even just a little bit.

“All of that pales in my attempt to murder you. I swore I’d keep you safe and yet…”

“Thorin, I’m getting really tired of having the same argument over and over again. Yes. You tried to kill me. No. That’s not enough for me to leave you. You weren’t yourself. You were…” Bilbo sighed. “You were a shadow of yourself. For me, it was like looking at a shade of you. A mimic that wasn’t the Dwarf I loved. Though I knew, somewhere, that Dwarf was still there. Now you’re back. What will it take for you to forgive yourself?”

Thorin scoffed. “I don’t want to be forgiven, Bilbo.”

“That’s not healthy, Thorin,” Bilbo said. He ran his fingers through his hair. “How about this: we return to the Shire for a bit. I need to go back anyway and take care of a few things as is and you need a break from all this,” he waved around the room. “I know Fili can handle things here with Balin’s and Dain’s help. Kili needs to go back anyway since he’s Erivalda’s heir. He’ll want to introduce Tauriel to his mothers anyway.”

Thorin kept staring at the fire. “All right,” he said. “I don’t know if that’ll help, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Bilbo grinned.

“Exactly. I’ll talk to Balin about it and get it arranged. You just handle the lads.”

~Third Age, 2929~

~Ered Luin~

Fire broke out in the lower districts. Thorin sent guards to help evacuate the area. Currently, he and Dwalin were trapped with another platoon two levels above that.

Hennec’s men were fine warriors, but so were Thorin’s – and Erivalda’s.

A hand gripped Thorin’s shoulder and he turned to the Dwarf.

“Wouldn’t think a king would be on the front lines.”

Thorin arched a brow at him. “I’m not like most kings.” The Dwarf offered his hand.

“Bofur, son of Nofur, at your service.”

Thorin gripped the offered hand and shook it. “You’re not of Erebor.”

“Nope. I’m a Blue Mountain Dwarf, born and raised.”

Thorin chuckled. He spied one of Hennec’s loyalists rushing at them. “Behind you!”

Bofur turned around, slamming his pickaxe into the throat of the soldier rushing them. “Bloody work, this. Isn’t it?”

“I’ve seen bloodier,” Thorin told him, shrugging. “Contender for Erivalda, I take it.”

Bofur nodded. “Many of us Blue Mountain natives think of her as our queen already. She’s always been a sight better than her father, no doubt.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t always so…”

“Horrible? Probably once. Couldn’t tell you when. Would’ve been before my time.”

“Thorin!” Dwalin shouted, pulling him down. Bofur dove down with them as a javelin flew overhead, embedding into the chest of another Dwarf.

“Hammer and blood,” Bofur cursed, stunned.

Thorin chuckled, clapping the younger Dwarf’s shoulder. “Still not the worst I’ve seen.”

“No. That would’ve been the bloke that got quartered and disemboweled,” Dwalin said. Thorin groaned. He wasn’t squeamish, but that one remained to be…quite ingrained in his head.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bofur said. “That does sound worse.”

“Imagine seeing it,” Thorin groused. Dwalin grinned unapologetically.

#

“So…other than that the queen’s One is your sister, Sire,” Bofur said, settling across from Thorin at camp. “Was there any other reason you rejected Hennec’s offer?”

Thorin nodded, setting his empty bowl down. “Several,” he said. “Half of them _because_ Eri and my sister are One. The other half was because I’ve my own One.”

“Oh?” Bofur’s eyebrows rose, almost hidden by his hat. “Have you met her, yet?”

“Him,” Thorin corrected. “And no. Not yet.”

Dwalin ripped his bread roll apart. “Still pissed at you, is he?” He chewed violently.

Thorin glared at him. “Yes.”

They had not talked for nearly a month. Not without effort. Thorin tried to get his Beloved to talk to him. Even to see reason in the arrangement his uncles were making. Not that he liked it. He hated it. The idea of his Beloved with another, even if it wasn’t romantic or sexual, cut deep.

“I still say your being ridiculous,” Dwalin said, jabbing a chicken leg in Thorin’s direction. “You don’t know that Hennec will get it into his head to go after him.”

“He’s gone after everyone else I love,” Thorin reminded him. “I’d rather not give him another target, Dwalin.” Bofur exchanged a glance with Dwalin, who shook his head.

“Lost cause, our King,” he said. “Thinks he’s being noble or some shit. Drives his One up the wall.”

Thorin shoved him. “You don’t know that!”

“I know you well enough. Don’t need to know your One that well to know you drive him a bit mad.”

“Am I missing something?” Bofur asked.

“No,” Thorin said. “There’s nothing to miss.” He shoved Dwalin again, who was explaining the situation Thorin had with his Beloved to Bofur in Iglishmek.

Bofur had a pitying expression on his face and signed _that’s sad_.

“And here I thought you were at least a decent bloke, Bofur,” Thorin sneered.

“Pay him no mind,” Dwalin said. “You’ll fit in just fine, lad.”

Thorin excused himself for his tent and lifted his charcoal pen.

_I don’t expect you to write me back. You’ve not for a while now, Beloved. But at least you know I’m alive. I promise we will meet. One day. I swear it. All I ask is that you talk to me again. I miss you._

He set his pen down and massaged his head.

It wasn’t long till he felt the familiar itch. Thorin pulled up his opposite sleeve.

**_Making me write on my non-dominant hand is cruel._ **

**_I’m glad you’re all right, Darling. Everything’s fine here, too. More than fine._ **

**_The girl they wanted me to marry, well, we found out what happened to her Soul Mate. I’m helping her take care of it right now. That’s all I’ve time to say right now. I’ve got to go to sleep but I’ll let you know what happens._ **

**_Just be careful._ **

**_I love you._ **


	9. Chapter 9

~Shire Reckoning, 1329~

~Bree~

Bilbo woke when the rooster crowed, obnoxiously startling him out of sleep. He sighed and opted to get ready for the day, leaving the room to give Amaranth some privacy as he went to order their first breakfast.

As he waited, he thought about the message he received from his Soul Mate before going to bed. Knowing what happened to Amaranth and Toby…

He didn’t want his One to think the worst as Toby had made Amaranth do.

 _Some soul mate I’ve been_ , he thought, angry with himself as he thought about his three weeklong silence. He wouldn’t do that to his Darling again. No matter how upset he got.

The food arrived and he thanked the maid, tucking in happily.

Amaranth joined him some minutes later.

“You’ll want to eat, Amy. Got you something while we waited. Hope it’s fine.”

“Thank you, Bilbo,” she said. She seemed pale. Nervous. It didn’t deter her appetite, though. She even seemed calmer once she had some food in her.

After breakfast, Bilbo escorted her to buy some food to offer the Goldthumbs at the impending meeting. She settled on some nut bread and dark chocolates.

Bilbo kept his arm circled around hers, trying to seem less a suitor and more a brother, as they approached the first-floor home off the main road in Bree. It wasn’t the grand house of a gentle-hobbit, but sensible, simple. Large enough for a pair of siblings and perhaps their parents.

“Ready?” Bilbo asked Amaranth.

She had paled again. He could feel her trembling a little bit. Amaranth nodded, exhaling deeply, as though trying to push out her fear while inhaling courage.

He held the gate door open for her and let her walk past him. He followed, subdued, as they approached the rectangular door that was more common in the towns of Men.

Amaranth rapped her knuckles against the door and stepped back, waiting. Bilbo stayed behind her. He feared that she might faint and figured it’d be best if he stood behind her to catch her if she did. The door opened with a click and Ariel welcomed them. She was wearing a green frock and her ruby hair was pulled into a half bun.

“How is he?” Amaranth asked, biting her lower lip.

“Nervous, as you might guess,” Ariel said. “Though I think you’re just as nervous.”

“Worse than I look, I think,” Amaranth said. Her voice quivered, though she presented a genteel smile. She handed Ariel the food they brought. “Might I see him?”

“Of course,” Ariel said. “Just let me set these down and I’ll take you to him.” Once the bread and chocolate had joined the fair on the table, Ariel led them out the back where they had a garden. Hunched down, and pulling free weeds, was a Hobbit.

He had the same red hair as Ariel did. It was a little longer, like the fashion of Men, and pulled out of his eyes in a tie. Like the more active Hobbits – the ones who were more apt to work for a living – he had less fat and more muscle that came from hard labor. One arm, Bilbo noted, had been severed above the elbow, almost to the shoulder. The sleeve where his arm should be was sewn shut to prevent chill.

“Toby,” Ariel said. “Our guests are here.”

Toby dropped his arm, still holding onto a dandelion root. He stood, apparently resigned, and faced them. As though life renewed in her, Amaranth ran at him and embraced him, weeping. Toby was stunned at first before releasing the weed and wrapping his arm around her.

Ariel sighed. “He wasn’t happy when I told him that you’d come,” she told Bilbo. “Hopefully now he knows he’s been a tomnoddy. I love my brother, of course, but damn it all if he isn’t maddeningly melancholy. Especially since he lost his arm.”

Bilbo nodded. He wondered if his meeting with his Soul Mate would be as heartfelt as Amaranth’s. Ariel led him inside, allowing Amaranth and Toby some time alone. They’d need it. After all this time isolated from each other, Bilbo dared to say they earned it.

~Third Age, 2941~

~Erebor~

“Are you sure?” Dain asked, frowning. “I mean, I get why the lads need to go back to the West. I’m sure a letter assuring their mothers will only do so much, but you’re needed here, Thorin.”

“Maybe so,” he said. “But Bilbo and I…”

“Ah. Yes. I heard,” Dain said. “I suppose you’ll need time away from the mountain after falling into th gold sickness. But you beat it, in the end.”

“I did.”

“First in history, I’ll take it,” Dain said. “That’s something to be proud of, isn’t it?”

Thorin shrugged. Perhaps it was. “How much do you know? Aside from that? Do you know how I treated Bilbo? What I almost did to him?”

“Yes,” Dain said. “I do. Balin enlightened me to the situation between you and your One.”

“And yet you still ask why I must leave the mountain? After what I did to him, I…” Thorin sighed. “That he loves me still amazes me.”

Dain shrugged. “I’m not. You know as well as I do the bond between Ones. He’s forgiven you. I’d take that and work on the problems you have together. You think everything between me and Halla is always grand? It isn’t. We can go weeks without saying a kind word to each other when we’re incensed. But in the end, she is my One and the mother of my child. I couldn’t stop loving her if I wanted to. And we always find a way to overcome our problems. We make it work, even though we’re both the most stubborn of Dwarrows when we like it. By Mahal, I’d cut off the rest of my limbs for her, you know.”

Thorin chuckled weakly. “I always knew that. But I attempted to murder him. Even if Bilbo can find a way to overcome it, I can’t. I almost killed my One. What would I have done if I had? I’d write him and not get a reply for months before I finally conclude that he died. I’d have never known that it was me. I kept him at a distance because I wanted to keep him safe. And in the end, I was the greatest danger to him. So, what then? Where do I go from there?”

“Well,” Dain sighed. “You’ve always been your own worst enemy, Thorin. You’re a self-loathing chap.”

Thorin thought on it. “Yes. That’s very true. Bilbo wants to try and make it work, and at this point, I’m just willing to go along with whatever he wants.”

“And what does he want, exactly?” Dain asked. “Or have you been too melancholy to really listen to what he’s saying to you?”

He had a point. Dain might be his junior, but he was wise, nonetheless.

Thorin stood. “I suppose I should find out,” he decided. Dain grinned and waved his hand in a shooing motion.

“Go on and figure out where you and your One stand. For what it’s worth, Thorin, I like him a lot. So do try to make it work rather than push him away.”

 _Keep pushing him away_ , Thorin silently corrected.

He found Bilbo in the library, reading one of the tomes they had in Westron. Thorin approached, clearing his throat. Bilbo looked up and smiled gently.

“Good afternoon, Thorin,” he said, closing the book with care and setting it aside. “Have some down time?”

“Not really,” he said. “But this takes precedence.” He took Bilbo’s hand in his and knelt to his knees.

“I love you,” Thorin began. “I will always love you. I want to be with you till my dying breath. I will go where you go. You followed me here. Now it is my turn to follow you back. After what I did to you before the battle, I will never be worthy of you in my own eyes. I will always believe you deserve better, Bilbo. But I know that that is not up to me. I am always going to be amazed you love me as much as I love you. I just hate myself so much. I hate what I’ve become when I was affected by the gold sickness. I hate how I treated you and how I treated my family and my friends. Yet I still want to fix what is broken between us, if you’ll let me.”

As he spoke, he kept his eyes on Bilbo’s face. They were both crying.

Bilbo swallowed, wiping his tears with his fingers. “Remember my cousin?” he asked. “The girl my uncle tried to make me marry a few years ago?”

Thorin did remember hearing about that. He nodded.

“Her Soul Mate was just as stupid and as stubborn as you are, Thorin. He was injured in an Orc raid that went through Bree. Lost an arm. He lived, but he didn’t write her for months, which is what set up the idea for her and me to marry. Preposterous fool, he was. Thought she was better off thinking he was dead rather than find a way to let her know he was alive and well. He thought that, because she was the daughter of a gentle-hobbit, and from the Shire, that he wouldn’t ever be enough for her. Because of his stupidity, he almost lost her. Thank Yavanna I wasn’t going to marry her without fighting. They’ve not left Bree since they were united. They’re very happy now. He’s a very skilled gardener and she’s become a midwife. They’ve two children now, too. And I have to admit, it gets tiring hearing him thank me for being so bloody stubborn, but I let it go because no matter what happened after it, it was all worth it.”

He pulled his hand out of Thorin’s grasp to brush a stray hair back into place.

“I never did hear about what happened after,” he told Bilbo. “Only that you succeeded in finding him and that all was well.”

Bilbo grimaced. “I know it was foolish, what with a civil war going on in the mountain at the time, but I tried to go there anyway,” he said. “Barely made it back into the Shire, over the Brandywine bridge, when I was arrested.”

“What?” Thorin gasped, almost shouting, but recalling where he was just in time.

Bilbo shrugged. “My uncle the Thain was irate with me and I ran away from home for about a month with Amaranth. And I dared return _without_ her. Granted, cutting through the Shire was the fastest way to the Blue Mountains, but I had hoped to not be discovered. My people can really pass as invisible _without_ magic rings when we want to. Although, it seems it doesn’t quite work on our own people.”

“How could you stay after that? Surely you could’ve returned to Bree.”

“I could have, but unfortunately, I was under house arrest for about…oh…a little less than a year. Every move I made was watched. I couldn’t even go to the market without a constable dogging my steps. It ended when the Thain passed away and my other uncle rose to power. He lifted the surveillance on me, and I was free again. There weren’t any other attempts to make me marry anyone after that. No one would have wanted me. Flight risk.” He grinned. “Which was perfect for me, you know. Who else was I going to be interested in that wasn’t you? And as to why I continued to reside in the Shire, well…a cousin’s wife kept hinting she wanted my parents’ house and I suppose I feared for some time that if I dared leave again I’d risk having my house stolen from me.”

Thorin stood and sat across from Bilbo. “And yet, despite her threats, you came with us anyway.”

“I did. Oh Gods, I hope that my absence didn’t give my relatives any ideas,” Bilbo growled lowly, a dark scowl marring his features. “Perhaps I should write the Thain. Let them know I’m alive and will be on my way home soon.”

“I’ll let you write that letter, then,” Thorin said, “And will procure a raven for you. They’ll manage the distance better than a runner.”

Bilbo nodded, standing to collect what he’d need to send his letter.

~Shire Reckoning, 1331~

~Hobbiton~

“You’re sure there is nothing we can do to convince you otherwise?” Mirabella asked, patting his arm. “I’m sure we could figure something out. You know your uncles only mean well.”

“I do,” he said. Donnamira set down a fresh pot of tea. “But I think I’ll be all right. I’ve no interest in being with anyone else.”

“Isn’t your Soul Mate from the Blue Mountains?” Donna asked, resituating herself beside her sister.

“He is.”

“And is there not a civil war going on up there?”

“There is,” Bilbo sighed, filling his cup with more tea. “He checks in with me daily to let me know he’s all right. Well, maybe _not_ all right, but alive. Look, he promised that once it was taken care of, he’d finally come and we’d meet.”

“Bilbo, Love,” Mira said. “We know you want what your parents had, but sometimes things just don’t work out the way we always want.”

“I know,” he said, cutting her off. “I know there’s a chance he could die before we meet. He’s a warrior, after all. It’s part of the risk he takes in his profession. I can’t say I like thinking about it because I don’t. I don’t even like _knowing_ it about him. But I do know that he means well. We…kind of made a pact. Last year after Isengrim passed away.”

His aunts exchanged glances before turning back to him and waving him on.

Bilbo sighed and set down his teacup. “If – and _only_ if – one of us does die, we’ve agreed that it would be logical to seek another.”

“And how would you know if he died? Or how will he know _you_ died?”

“Well, you can’t write your soul mate when you’re dead,” Bilbo pointed out. We talk daily, Nothing much, most of the time. Just a little note like ‘I’m alive’ or ‘All’s well.’ We don’t always have something to tell each other, after all, but it works and no matter how short those messages can be, they give me some peace. So long as we send _something_ to each other, we know we’re both alive. So, we agreed that, if one of us dies, the other will know something’s wrong and we agreed that if there’s no contact for a month, we could safely assume the other was dead.”

“Couldn’t another write on your One to let you know?” Mira asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Bilbo said. “Toby and Ariel tried to do that after he lost his arm. Amaranth never got the message that he was injured. It’s like…like the connection between soul mates is only between them. Not even our relatives or friends could send us word unless they know who we are and where we live so to contact us and let us know if anything has happened.”


	10. ON HIATUS

Hey guys!

First of all, thanks to everyone who's been reading. I hope you'll stay with me for a while longer.

I got a new job and while I am trying to get a page in a day, that's not been the case for all the stories I'm working on. So I decided to go back to a one at a time method. For the foreseeable future, I'll be working on my Drarry story, Gold and Silver Cracks.

I'm not abandoning any of my current works in progress. When I get back to this one, I'll delete this message and upload the next chapter.

Thank you, everyone, for being such great readers and for being so patient with me.

With much love,

Silver.


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